■PS 3513 

■ -R453 
■C6 

■ 1920 

■ Copy 2 








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7 









By traiuBf 6r 



MY BOYHOOD DAYS 

When I think of the days of my boyhood, 

Sporting in field and glen ; 
Hunting and trapping in the wild wood, 

Oh ! how I would like it again. 

Well do I remember. 

When but ten years old ; 
• It was in the month of September, 

And the leaves had turned to gold. 

I purloined my brother's gun. 
From off the elevated rack ; 

And went into the woods for fun. 
And brought a partridge back. 

I went home with the bird in my hand. 
And the gun upon my shoulder ; ' 

Never was there a prouder young man, 
Or ofte who appeared any bolder. 

My mother said she was proud of me, 

Her little ten year old son ; 
A perfect Esaw I would soon be. 

If I could own a gun. 

Take it to your Grandfather she said. 
And tell him you shot the game ; 

For he is now sick in bed, 

With rheumatism very lame. 

My Grandfather I found in bed, 

Not appearing very good ; 
Where did you get that bird he said, 

I replied, I shot it in the woods. 

He said you are the best grandson, I've got. 
To shoot a partridge and bring to me ; 

And only ten years old, and such a shot, 
A ^reat hunter you will surely be. 



STEALING DOUGHNUTS 

My mother thought her children were very good, 
Ten of whom grew to man and womanhood ; 
But we were mischievous as we could be, 
As from this narrative you will plainly see. 

Mother was frying doughnuts in the kitchen one day. 
When we children were all upstairs to play ; 
Through an opening in the floor we could scan, 
The delicious fried cakes in the pan. 

The pan placed on the high oven, they were quite near. 
And with a long sharpened stick the cakes I did spear ; 
Every time mother turned around for more dough. 
Up heavenward another cake would go. 

Very quiet we all kept, at the time at least. 
While we were enjoying our splendid feast; 
How long it continued I cannot tell. 
But the fried cakes we relished well. 

I heard mother to my older sister say. 
My fried cakes seem to be going away ; 
I fry and fry as fast as I possibly can. 
But they do not accumulate in the pan. 

I don't see where they can all go, 

For there's no more, than there was an hour ago ; 

She now happened to turn quite quick, 

When she saw a cake going up on the stick. 

Then my sister cried, "Mercy sakes". 
That's what's become of all the cakes ; 
Stealing the cakes we thought great fun, 
But now we knew our feast was done. 

We enjoyed the cakes which were awfully good. 
And we ate all we possibly could ; 
No one considered himself a thief or a sinner, 
But none of us had any appetite for dinner. 



TRAPPING MY FIRST FOX 

The fox is the shrewdest animal known, 
Unless it's the wolf who is much larger grown ; 
They both can scent steel when on the ground, 
And instead of approaching it will always go around. 

A large fine fox we'd often seen, 
Up in the meadow where the grass was green ; 
He was a large fine fox and very nice. 
And seemed to be alwaj^s hunting for mice. 

One day when I saw the fine old chap, 

I said, I believe I can catch you in a trap ; 

If he had heard what I said it might have made him laugh, 

But then I proceeded to make a large bed of chaff. 

Foxes are fond of honey made by bees. 
And also very fond of cheese; 
Toasted cheese I placed on the ground. 
And scattered same on the bed all around. 

The next morning when I went there, 

I found he had eaten the bate without much care ; 

Upon the cheese _he nightly fed. 

While there was no trap in the bed. 

Now thinking I could catch the old chap, 
I placed in the bed my fox trap ; 
I went there the next morning just at dawn, 
And, lo and behold, my trap was gone. 

It had snowed and though I looked all around, 
No trace of the trap could be found ; 
Father came to help me hunt but could not stay, 
As it was what Friends call First day. 

He then gave me a farewell greeting. 

Saying that he must go to meeting ; 

He went to feed the old sow by placing corn on the ground, 

But no nowhere could the old sow be found. 

At last he found her under the bam, evidently taking a nap, 
But now he discovered on her foot, the fox trap ; 
It seems after I had been to the bed and come back. 
The old sow had followed up my track. 

My brothers said I was a smart boy to catch the old sow. 
And soon I would be able to catch the old cow; 
Their chaffing gave me some pain, 
But I was bound to try it again. 



Bad dreams that night troubled my nap, 

In the morning I found the fox had sprung my trap ; 

He had scented the steel and became aware, 

That an implement of destruction was placed there. 

Now I said old fellow you seem to be very funny. 
And knowing that you are very fond of honey ; 
I will now try something which you, it will please. 
Which is, also manufactured by honey bees. 

I now heated the trap quite hot, 

And smeared it with beeswax, every spot ; 

I now set the trap and put beeswax all around. 

Placed some on the bed and on the ground. 

I went there the next morning at the break of day. 
And found something had taken my trap away; 
It was snowing and blowing quite a gale. 
But I hunted until I struck the trail. 

I followed on and overtook the fox at last, 
There in a clump of bushes he was fast ; 
He evidently admitted he was outwitted quite. 
He seemed very gentle and showed no fight. 

He acted so gentle and seemed so tame. 

To kill him I think it an outrageous shame ; 

I have regretted ever since that day. 

That I didn't open the trap and let him go away. 




MY SPOTTED WOODCHUCK 

When I was a boy up on the old farm. 
Trapping- woodchucks to me seemed no harm; 
I found where one lived under a ledge, 
Located near a small hedge. 

T set my trap and covered it up with grass. 
That he would not detect it, when he would pass; 
I went there next morning to see if I'd had luck. 
In catching a big fat woodchuck. 

When near the place I observed an awful smell, 
Ifc resembled the fumes of h — 1 ; 
It seemed to pervade the whole lot, 
And I now knew what I had got. 

Half way to the house I now did run, 

And called to my brother to bring his gun; 

When he arrived he took control. 

And planned to get the animal out of his hole. 

He ordered me to crawl out on the ledge, 
And place a long pole over the edge ; 
Then to be careful what I was about. 
And forcibly pry the animal out. 

When I forced him out into the light, 
I saw that he was black and white ; 
Before my brother shot his gun, in this case. 
The animal fired, hitting me full in my face. 

He might have missed me had I been higher. 
But now to me the woods seemed all on fire ; 
He hit me in the eyes and knocked off my hat, 
And now I found I was blind as a bat. 

Not being able to see anything, 

My brother led me down to a spring; 

Where I washed my face and bathed my eyes. 

After which I could see the blue skies. 

After I ceased my eyes to douse, 
We journeyed down to the house; 
My brothers didn't exhibit much mirth, 
When they buried my clothes in the earth. 

They now placed me in a bath-tub. 
With soap and sand gave me a scrub; 
They seemed to do their work very well, 
But I doubt if they destroyed the smell. 

When from the bath-tub I rose, 

I donned another suit of clothes; 

It Gjured me of trapping for a time, at least, 

For fear of catching another savoried beast. 



A REMINISENCE OF 3IY BOYHOOD DAYS 
OUR FISHING TRIP 

Perhaps it did us, boys no harm, 
To work quite hard, on the old farm; 
All one spring, we had been wishing, 
• That we might, go a fishing. 

We could imagine, the trout in the brook. 
Waiting patiently, to bite our hook; 
We could see them, move and squirm. 
Looking all around, for an angleworm. 

One morning, father was going away. 
When we asked, to go fishing that day ; 
He at first said yes, and then recanted. 
And said those pumpkins, must be planted. 

We insisted, and said t'would do no hurt. 
If one day more, they were out of the dirt; 
But he was imperative, and said no, 
On a fishing trip, we could not go. 

But then, just before he went. 
We asked to be given our stent; 
But the only stent, we got. 
Was to plant, the whole lot. 

We stood there, in great suspense. 
When I slowly, climbed the fence; 
I now took, a careful observation. 
Which struck me, with consternation. 

That field, according to my notion. 
Was about the size, of the Atlantic Ocean; 
To plant all that field, was not right. 
For it would take, 'till late that night. 

While I sat there, on the fence. 

With my mind, in deep suspense; 

I thought of a scheme, which I believed. 

Was better, than any we'd conceived. 

A large flat stone, laid on the ground, 

Which in shape, was nearly round ; 

We lifted up, this small ledge. 

And while my brother, held it on the edge. 



I then committed, the awful deed, 

Of dumping in, the pumpkin seed ; 

When upon the empty pail, our eyes we cast, 

We realized our stent, was done at last. 

The time had come, for which we'd been wishing, 

And now we at once, went fishing; 

Joy in our eyes, did now beam, 

As we journeyed, toward the stream. 

All day we sported, with the trout. 
And what fun it was, to pull them out ; 
Although there'd be no pumpkins, in the fall, 
Our consciences troubled us, not at all. 

Conscience, is said to be innate. 
But ours did not, us berate ; 
We continued to fish, until night. 
And thought we, were doing right. 

Although we'd committed, a terrible deed. 
When we destroyed, the pumpkin seed; 
Neither of us thought, himself a sinner, 
While feasting on, a fine trout dinner. 

One morning Father, looking very forlorn. 
Came from the field, of growing corn ; 
He then, with a stern voice, said to me. 
Why the pumpkins didn't grow, I plainly see. 

Why in the ground so long, they did keep. 
Was because they were planted, so very deep; 
They are now all up, every one, 
A perfect hedge, around that stone. 

It now gave me, a terrible shock, 
To know they'd come up, around that rock; 
He then said, such deed, will never pay, 
For Satan will always, give you away. 

He then told us, to plant them, once more. 
But not, as we had planted them, before; 
We now worked, with a will. 
And planted them, in every other hill. 

They all came up, as they should. 

And the Fall Crop, was quite good ; 

The crop was quite good, tho' we caught the fish. 

But not as good, as we could wish. 



AN EXPERIENCE IN THE FRIENDS MEET- 
ING, WHEN WE WERE BOYS ON THE 
FARM IN VERMONT 

One spring during the month of May, 
My brother and I drove oxen every day ; 
In driving them, we knevi' how. 
While the hired man held the plow. 

One of the steers, my brother had, 

Would sometimes kick very bad; 

The weather was warm and the sun was hot, 

And from morning till night, no rest we got. 

When Sunday came, Father would say, 
Now all must go to meeting today; 
This was right in a certain way, 
But at home, we'd m.uch rather stay. 

Those who go to meeting, he said, will be blest. 
But we preferred to stay at home and rest; 
The carriage now to the door was sent. 
And off to meeting, we all went. 

A hard seat, we had, when we got there, 

And now listened to a lengthy prayer; 

After this for a time nothiing was said, 

When George on the front of the seat, rested his head. 

Now all over the house, 'twas still as death. 
When my brother drew a very long breath ; 
Afterwards his breathing became loud, but slow. 
When instentorfian tones he shouted Who. 

His shout which sounded like a thunder clap, 
Must have awakened many from their nap; 
I shook him, when he awoke with a vacant stare. 
Wondering why he'd not been left there. 

After meeting I told him what he'd done. 

And he seemed to think it was great fun ; 

Said he dreamed he'd struck the steer with a stick, 

When he received on his leg, a terrible kick. 

After he received this awful blow, 
He laid on the ground, it pained him so ; 
And he thought he could not farther go, 
And that was why, he shouted Who. 



MY FIRST LOVE 

There was a girl, I used to know, 
Many, many, long years ago. 
Her hair, was fair, her eyes were blue, 
This pretty little girl, I then knew. 
And Oh! how, her eyes, did shine, 
My beautiful, little Adaline. 

In the school yard, where we use to play, 
We would meet each other, every day. 
Where I would always plan, to meet her. 
And on a board, we would teeter. 
This sport to me, seemed divine, 
With my dear, little Adaline. 

Our enjoyment, was intense. 
As we teetered, on the fence. 
We were as happy, as we could be, 
I talking sweet to her, and she to me. 
Oh! she'd say, isn't this fine? 
My darling, little Adaline. 

Of all the girls, I had ever met, 
She was the prettiest, I'd seen yet, 
I felt sure, at a proper age. 
In matrimony, we'd engage. 
Then I'de be hers, and she'd be mine. 
My lovely, little Adaline. 

She one day, gave a dinner. 

Among the guests, was Johnny Skinner, 

At the table, he commenced to cry. 

Saying I, had the biggest, piece of pie. 

Your manners, to your appetite, should incline, 

So replied, my darling little Adaline. 

When at her house, one day, as her guest, 
She told me, they were^ to move out west. 
She said it, with a tear, in her eye. 
And then it became, my turn, to cry. 
She invited me to stay and dine, 
My charming, little Adaline. 

When I found, that we must part, 

I really thought, 'twould break my heart, 

But after the lapse, of several years. 

Living amidst, many hopes and fears. 

I heard, her pledge, to another, she did assign, 

And that I had lost, my precious Adaline. 

S. S. Green. 



A VACATION AMONG THE GREEN 
MOUNTAINS OF VERMONT 

Here near a high green mountain peak. 
Where in winter, the storms are bleak ; 
But in summer the scenery is grand. 
The view, extending far over the land. 

Often the cry of the eagle is heard. 
The "emblem of liberty", that noble bird; 
From their eyrie upon the mountain high, 
We often hear the young ones cry. 

At night we hear the hooting of the bighorned owl. 
And at other times, the wolves doleful howl ; 
On the banks of a nearby stream, 
We often hear the panther scream. 

When a bear around your place, will prowl, 
You can often hear his savage growl; 
One night one came down from his den, 
And took a pig from out his pen. 

And carried him away up into the wood. 
And I presume his pork was good; 
Formerly the noble moose were plenty here. 
But now there's only the common deer. 

Not far from here, on a small plain, 
I know the place where one was slain ; 
Often here, late in the fall. 
You will hear the wild cats yawl. 

And as around the place he prowls. 

He is quite sure to kill your fowls ; 

The streams are all well stocked with trout. 

And it's great sport to pull them out. 

This kind of sport is hard to beat. 
But I prefer the trout to eat; 
Oh ! how happy I always feel. 
When partaking of a fine trout meal. 
Representing a period, fifty years ago. 



A EEMINISENCE OF THE DAYS OF 
MY BOYHOOD 

When I was a boy, upon the old farm, 

Hunting and fishing, to me had a charm ; 

Rabbit hunting, with the hound — gave me much joy. 
And I was a good shot, for an overgrown boy. 

Our nephew came over, one morning in May, 
And asked to go hunting, with us that day. 

He was a fine fellow, very tall and slim. 
We at once consented, to go with him. 

He then said, he would consider it great fun, 
If he could shoot a rabbit, with our gun. 

We said take it, and see, what you can do. 
Instead of one, perhaps you'll shoot two. 

Sport now commenced, barking and jumping. 

For he also, wanted to go hunting. 
We all went up, to the little ledge. 

Where we knew rabbits, lived in the hedge. 

The dog hunted it over, time and again. 

But at last, routed bunny, out of his den. 

Old Sport now, began to bay. 

While the rabbit, ran swiftly away. 

The baying of the hound, was now loud and clear, 
Which is heavenly music, to a hunter's ear. 

The trail now seemed to lead, around the hill. 

Placing Frank on the runway, bade him keep still. 

Not to remain, near the place, where he stood. 
We retired some distance, back in the wood. 

We now heard them run, past the spot. 
But to our dismay, we heard no shot. 

The rabbit must have passed, nearly under his nose. 

When Frank shouted, "There he goes, there he goes; 

When asked why he did not shoot the hare 

He boldly stated, "That none passed there." 

I don't think he meant, to be a deceiver. 

But the fact was, Frank had the back-fever. 

He would not have seen him, had it been a bear, 
For it seems he was looking, up in the air. 



Why he was looking, up in the sky, 

He must have thought, a rabbit could fly. 
He was trembling all over, and pale as death. 

But soon he remarked — in a spasmodic breath — 

"If again that rabbit, ever comes back" 

I'll kill him, or else, die in my track." 
Old Sport's voice now seemed, quite hoarse. 

Yet they were pursuing, the very same course. 

We now retired — to the same place again — 

And soon heard them coming down the glen. 

We saw the rabbit — and how he did run; 

And now we heard, the report of Frank's gun. 

We now went there, and hunted all around. 

And soon found the rabbit, dead on the ground. 

For a time, I've no doubt, Frank deemed us his foes. 

For when we saw him, we'd shout, "There he goes! There 
he goes." 




AN ELECTRIC STORM IN VERMONT 

A terrific storm occurred here one morning, 
Witiiout there being scarcely any warning; 
The lightning flashed, from hill to hill 
And then for a moment, all was still. 

Then there came an awful roar, 

Such as I never heard before; 

Crash, upon crash, followed in quick succession. 

And there seemed to be no cessation. 

It seemed like a great battle in the air, 
With thousands of cannon, belching there; 
Causing such a deafening sound, 
That it fairly shook the ground. 

Flash upon flash and roar upon roar. 
Such as I never had heard before; 
Ti-ees were struck and felled to the ground, 
Contributing to the terrible sound. 

It caused the earth to tremble and shake. 
As though it had been caused by an earthquake ; 
The cattle bellowed and ran in the fields, 
Frightened by the terrible thunder peals. 

The horses in their stalls, loudly neighed. 
On account of the storm which made them afraid ; 
The storm continued with all its mighty powers, 
For at least two mortal hours. 

Rain came in torrents, with the wind fiercely blowing, 
And soon the streams were overflowing; 
Some people climbed the mountainside. 
To escape from the foaming tide. 

Four barns were struck, and burned that day, 
None of them being very far away; 
Barns and contents were all swept away, 
And some of them nearly full of hay. 

I am thankful I'm left to tell the tale, 
After passing through that awful gale; 
This terrific storm passed away to the East, 
Like some maddened, roaring beast. 



AN INVITATION TO LONG POINT 

The haying at last is over, 

We are glad for everyone's sake. 

We are soon to be rewarded, 

By spending a week at the Lake. 

We have engaged a humble cottage, 
A place with a lovely view. 
One may sit and watch the sunset, 
With its tints of rainbow hue. 

We will gaze at the shining water. 
With the beautiful mountains so near. 
To us the place is dearer. 
With every passing year. 

We will try and entertain you, 
If to Long Point you will come, 
And the little fish that you may catch. 
Will total a good round sum. 

We will promise you a good soft bed. 
An excellent coat of tan, 
A rocking chair where you may smoke. 
And food for the inner man. 

We go the final vroek in September, 
We feel sure you will be there, 
So we will lay the table for you, 
And draw up an extra chair. 

Your loving niece, 

Naomi 



A REPLY TO MY NIECE'S INVITATION 
TO LONG POINT 

Yes I'll come to you at the Lake, 
And we will be happy there; 
Feasting on Bow-fin steak, 
Which you will cook with care. 

And when the steak is all gone, 
And no more we have got ; 
You and I will go for more, 
In your husband's yacht. 

And if he objects to it. 
All I would care to say; 
Is on the porch we will sit. 
Until he goes away. 

If you do excel in poetry. 
Fishing is different, you see. 
And while I am catching twenty. 
You will not catch but three. 

But one thing seems very bad. 
According to the laws of your state; 
Nothing out there can be had. 
To use in scenting the bait. 

While on the porch we are sitting. 
We'll all the time be wishing; 
That he will go away and stay. 
When we will go a-fishing. 



THE RAZOR-BACK HOG IN FLORIDA 

The razor-back hogs, so they say, 
Were brought by the Spanish, for food on the way ; 
When they got here, they had left, many more. 
And decided to place, some on the shore. 

And since then, they have lived in the wood, 
And their meat is said to be very good ; 
They are now to be found, all over this region. 
They have so increased, their number is legion. 

Rattlesnakes, it is said, is their favorite feed. 
But this can be changed, by crossing the breed ; 
Their meat, causes some people, to quaver, 
Because, they say, it has a rattlesnake flavor. 

The razor-back pig, has a plowshare nose. 

And plows the ground, for roots, wherever he goes ; 

It is said, but I cannot vouch for the truth, 

That Ponce de Leon, when looking, for the fountain of youth. 

When he found a place, where he wanted to dig. 
He sent out and captured, a razor-back pig; 
And as the Spaniards, were inclined to shirk. 
They looked on, while the pig did the work. 

In the wilderness, where they usually rove. 
They generally go, in a small drove; 
He is quite ferocious, this razor-back. 
And people, sometimes, they will attack. 

And if to be safe, one would like to be. 
He must at once climb, a nearby tree; 
And he must remain, in this exalted place. 
Until a snake is seen, when they all give chase. 

Now swiftly, after the snake, they roam. 
When the prisoner, can come down, and go home ; 
When it is desired, to tame one of the breed. 
He is confined, and given plenty of feed. 

But if he refuses, this kind of food to take. 
He must be given, now and then, a rattlesnake; 
Some of these pigs, are so very thin, 
A board pen is made, to keep them in. 

Then knots must be tied, in the tails, of these razor-backs. 
To prevent them from passing, out through the cracks; 
The color of these pigs, is black as your hat. 
And they seem to be at home, in their habitat. 



K 



FIGHTING COX 

Written during the Harding-Cox Campaign 

The Democrats are fond of fighting "cox" 
And for the contest they have selected one; 
But when Harding gets him in the ring, 
Oh! how he will make him run. 

The fighting cox better have his spurs on tight, 
In order that they may not rattle; 
When he gets into the Harding fight, 
In the Country's hard fought battle. 

And when the battle is over and past, 
Harding, in the Presidential Chair, will sit; 
And the Cox will be beaten at last. 
Lying prostrate in the pit. 

When the fighting Cox is badly beaten. 

The best way to dispose of him, it seems to me ; 

Would be to have him eaten. 

In the form of a fricassee. 



TO THE MEMBERS OF THE ACACIA CLUB' 
IN BUFFALO, N. Y. 

BY ONE OF THE MEMBERS 
WHO IS IN FLORIDA 

Come here, and sit under, the shady trees 
And always be fanned, by the balmy breeze. 
Here! is no frost, and it does not freeze. 
And listen to the hum, of the honey bees. 

Where the mocking birds sing, at the break of dawn 
And the flowers are blooming, out on the lawn. 
Beautiful widows, are here in profusion, 
And what they desire, — is not a delusion. 

They are charming, and sweeter than honey, 
And some — it is said — have plenty of money. 
Come down old bachelors, and widowers too, 
And with pleasure, I'll introduce you. 

Oranges and sweetmeats, do not compare 
With these lovely widows, with golden hair. 
Come now and, do not delay 
For fear of their being, taken away. 



Written to the President of Masonic Club xMle in Florida 
WHO STOLE MY FOUNTAIN PEN 

To the members of the Masonic Club 

I've what I had some years ago, 
A bad attack of lumbago; 
And what I did most lack, 
Was some one to rub my back. 

A beautiful widow offered to. 

But I hardly thought 'twould do; 

She not being a regular nurse, 

There was danger of making me feel worse. 

The pain I've had, no one can tell 

But I hope to soon be well; 

Kind regards to the members of the Masonic den, 

Except the one who stole my fountain pen. 

While he lingers a spell, here below. 
May he suffer the pains of h — 1, with lumbago ; 
And before his soul to perdition is sent, 
May he return my pen and repent. 



FOB SUSAN SPENCER'S BIRTHDAY 
CALENDAR 

Old Father Time in his rapid flight, 
Brings thoughts to me of the past tonight. 
Thoughts of a sweet young girl I used to know, 
Many, many, long years ago. 

Her hair was fair, and her eyes were blue, 
And this was the sweet little girl I knew. 
The beautiful girl whom I then knew, 
Was none other, Sue, but you. 

If here we never meet anymore. 

May we try and meet on the other shore. 



LOVER'S LANE IN FLORIDA 

To 7)1 y Widoiv Friend 

If you will walk with me, in lover's lane, 
We will walk there sometime again; 
With the flowers, all so very red, 
And the beautiful green canopy overhead. 

We will add greatly to its charm. 
By walking together, arm in arm ; 
Admiring the flowers and the trees, 
And listening to the humming of the bees. 

When we are weary we'll sit under a tree, 
And listen to the mocking bird's, joyous glee; 
The loveliest song one ever heard. 
Sung by this magnificent bird. 



In answer to verses sent to me by my esteemed niece 

You are certainly, a fine poet, 

But until now, I did not know it. 
But why should you, send me to H — 1? 

As far as I, have understood, 
I have tried to live, pretty good ; 

But now, the sulphurous fumes, I smell. 

Don't you think it cruel, to send me there? 

Down to the realms, of dark despair. 
Where the smoke, is always blue. 

I understand, some ladies, fair, 
Have been known, to go there; 

But I hope Julia, I shall not meet you. 



KAISER 31 AY BE WISER 

Written during the World's War 

Our world, is in a terrible uproar, 
Such as was never, known before. 
Convulsed with murder, war, and strife; 
With sufferings untold, and loss of life. 

What the future outcome, will be. 

No one at present, can foresee, 

To what straits, our country, may be driven ; 

Is foretold, by Joseph Hoag's vision. 

We cannot concieve, of such a thing, 
That we are to be ruled, by a king, 
Yet the slaughter of millions, will prevail ; 
With bombs, and shells, falling thick as hail. 

The killing of innocent people, by air-machines. 
And the drowning of others, by submarines. 
While these missils, at their foes are hurled; 
Germany, boldly states, she'll whip the world. 

But the German Emperor, known as Kaiser, 
When the war is over, may be wiser, 
And when he is dead, and beneath the sod ; 
He may see his mistake, about me and God. 

And when he is dead, for a certain spell. 
He'll find its not me and God, 
But me, and the Devil, in hell. 



BEAM POINT 

This cottage, on Beam Point, to me. 
Is a perfect, beauty; 
And to remain here, it seems to be. 
My sacred duty. 

Here on the shore, of old Lake Erie, 
There are no mosquitos, nor flies; 
No one should ever, get weary. 
In this perfect, paradise. 

Sleeping in a hammock, under the trees, 
With a canopy of sky, overhead; 
Being always fanned, by the balmy breeze. 
You greatly enjoy, your bed. 

With the crickets chirpirg, on the lawn. 
And the frogs croaking, out on the shore; 
Tne song of the birds, waking you at dawn. 
Such happiness, I never knew before. 

The sound of the waves, on the shore. 
Causes one to sleep, the sleep of the blest ; 
Providing the others don't snore. 
Thereby, disturbing your rest. 

We have a lady visitor, at this place, 
Who is very charming, and fair; 
She possesses a very, handsome face, 
And a profusion, of beautiful hair. 

We wish she'd stay, through the season, 

She is so charming, and kind; 

For the very, simple reason, 

A husband she'd be likely to find. 



WRITTEN TO CLYDE 

Clyde, To you, fishing is fun. 
How would you like to catch this one ; 
Several were caught but this is mine, 
I caught him with a small trout line. 

I thought he'd brake my line in two, 
The way he bent my bamboo ; 
Manatee or sea-cow is his name. 
But he did pull, like a bull, just the same. 

When you get a big one, he goes in jumps and bounds. 
An one was caught weighing seven hundred pounds; 
Although the color of this fish is black. 
He was not weighed by the scales on his back. 

Some people, this story, would not believe. 
But no one, am I trying to deceive; 
I was always taught when in my youth, 
In telling fish stories, to tell the truth. 

This one I confess, seems quite big, 
And in size resembles a large fat pig; 
The way he performs, would make you laugh. 
And in landing him, you need a gaff. 

In landing him you want to look out. 

Or while pulling him in he'll pull you out. 



MERRY CHRISTMAS 

Please accept these slippers, slippers, slippers, 
And put them on your flippers, flippers, flippers; 

Do not wear them out in the storm, storm, storm. 
But in the house where it is warm, warm, warm. 

Remember what I have said, said, said. 

And do not wear them in your bed, bed, bed. 

If they prove to be too small, small, small, 
Use them to kill bugs on the wall, wall, wall. 

If you are opposed to taking life, life, life, 
Use them to spank your little wife, wife, wife. 



TO MY DEAR SISTER 

Permit me by this letter, in rhyme, 
To tell you, that old Father Time ; 
In his mysterious way, 
Has brought me, another birthday. 

Instead of adding to my list, one more. 
Why could he not, have lessened the score, 
Feeling as I do, so young and gay. 
Why did he not, take some away? 

I cannot understand, it seems so queer, 
They use to come, but one a year; 
But he has evidently, changed his ways. 
They seem to come now, every few days. 

Just think! three score years and ten. 

The average life, of all men; 

Is it not enough, to make one shiver. 

When we think how soon, we'er to cross the river? 

And still the wheels of time roll round, 
Soon none of us, here will be found ; 
We will all have passed to the other shore. 
And may we all be happy, for ever more. 



OLD MAN'S LAMENT 

When I was young I use to say, 
If I lived to the age I am today ; 
I would act young and spry. 
Or at least I would try. 

I would joke, laugh and sing. 
And dance and do most everything; 
But now I find I'm getting old, 
I am lame and my feet are cold. 

My children to me will often say, 
Why don't you try to act young and gay ; 
Your clothes are soiled, what's the use, 
Why not dress up and look spruce. 

How I dress or how much I try. 
Something to them always seems ary; 
If I want a cap of a certain form, 
Which will keep my ears warm. 

They will never consent to that. 

And I am compelled to wear a stylish hat ; 

'I^hey do not consider that a man of my years. 



RESCUING A COLORED FELLOW 

Here in Florida, I took a walk one day, 
Up the Hillsboro River, above the bay; 
I walked along the bank very slow. 
On a path of sand as white as snow. 

As I proceeded along the, shore. 
Where I had never been before; 
Down in the river I heard a loud spatter. 
Caused by a colored fellow in the water. 

While I stood there and looked at him, 
I wondered why he'd not learned to swim; 
Now in my mind there arose a doubt. 
Was it my duty to help him out. 

Should I try and rescue him from this fount. 
When blacks are considered of no account; 
Here if a white kills a black, he needs no defence. 
Providing he is willing to pay the funeral expense. 

If he was white, I would be in despair. 
To go away and leave him there ; 
Or if he was a malatto it wouldn't be right. 
But this colored fellow was black as night. 

He could not swim, but continued to float, 
While I looked all around for a boat; 
But there was none anywhere around, 
And there was no help to be found. 

My conscience was clear now 'twould seem. 
And I quietly proceeded down the stream ; 
The farther I went in that direction. 
The less satisfaction, I had in my reflection. 

Beside the fence, I was looking toward, 

I discovered a long narrow board ; 

My conscience now said, with this try to save. 

That black fellow from a watery grave. 

I took the board, and went back. 

To see if I could save the black; 

Now with the board, I towed him slow, 

Down to a place where the bank was low. 

I now grasped him with my hand. 
And dragged him out upon the land; 
I placed him on a grassy spot, 
Where the sun shone quite hot. 



I watched his chest rise and fall, 
Showing there was life, and that was all, 
He now moved, and drew several sighs, 
Turned his head and opened his eyes. 

I left him apparently doing well. 
And now returned to my hotel ; 
There is an answer to every riddle. 
And this was a devil's darning-needle. 



A STORM AT SEA 

I was the surgeon, on a full rigged ship, 

From New York to Liverpool, 'twas my first trip ; 

She was the Charles H. Marshal of the Black Ball line. 

Of both staunchness, and speed she was knovsm to combine. 

Of a pleasant voyage, we all could boast. 
Until we reached, the Irish coast, 
Upon a placid ocean, we did sail, 
But here we encountered, an av/ful gale. 

One morning before it was fa'rly light, 
The captain gave me, a fearful fright,' 
"Get up as quickly as you can," he said, 
"For we are being wrecked, on Mizzenhead." 

I perceived he was fearful, of a wreck, 

And I soon followed, him on deck, 

I took an observation, with a great deal of dread. 

And just off our port bow stood old Mizzenhead. 

The approaching storm, was now at hand, 
How could we pass, that point of land ? 
The ship was now rolling, and cracking. 
To save her, we now tried tacking. 

By this means we made some gain at last. 
And after a time, this dangerous point we passed, 
We were not out of danger, we saw much more. 
When we beheld the high rocks, on the lee shore. 

Their sides washed, by the foaming spray, 
And our ship, not very far away. 
Tacking was continued, in the fearful gale, 
But seemed to me, of but little avail. 



Nothing, having been gained, by all of this. 
We were slowly nearing, the terrible precipice. 
At the wheel, was the bosom's mate, 
Seeming to be, in a nervous state. 

His manly face, was now deathly pale. 
While stearing the boat, in this awful gale. 
With a trembling voice, he gravely said, 
In less than an hour, we'll all be dead. 

The captain it seemed, knew how to swear, 
And he did not neglect, to do it there. 
His fearful oaths, did fairly crack. 
Slipping, he now, fell on his back. 

He got up, in a frenzied condition. 

And by blasphemy, sent us all to perdition, 

I can state upon, my sacred word, 

That such profanity, I have never heard. 

While his oaths gave us, nervous shocks. 
Our ship was drifting, towards the rocks, 
I have never yet, learned to swear. 
But have always firmly, believed in prayer. 

While the captain, continued to swear, 

I called upon, the Lord in prayer, 

I implored him, us to save. 

From what then seemed, a watery grave. 

During the roar, of the tempest, over all. 
There came upon us, a terrific squall. 
The sails cracked, and snapped, like a whip. 
It seemed the masts, would leave the ship. 

But when the squall, had passed, that day, 
The wind changed, to the opposite way. 
It now came from what, had ben the lee. 
And took us out, into the open sea. 

I believe the Lord, sent that squall. 
Which changed the wind, and saved us all. 
Could not this storm, be calmed, here at sea? 
As well, as on the sea, of Gallilee? 



A MOOSE HUNT 

One fall a friend gave me a cordial invitation, 
To go moose hunting with him far beyond civilization ; 
He said by going to the northern woods in the fall, 
You could often hear the bull-moose call. 

His voice sounds like a big bass drum, 

And when his mate answers, he is sure to come ; 

The sound of his call, many hunters say. 

Can be plainly heard, a mile away. 

He crashes through the brush, like a cyclone. 
Which will frighten you greatly, if you're alone; 
He runs through the forest, with terrific bounds. 
And I shot one weighing, fifteen hundred pounds. 

He is the largest animal, in this section known, 
The largest in fact, of the temperate zone ; 
He can use his front leg, as a man does his arm. 
And whoever he hits, suffers much harm. 

Many dogs have been killed, by one blow at least, 
When struck by the foot, of this mamoth beast; 
When wounded he is very dangerous they say. 
Unless you are a long distance away. 

He is a magnificent animal, with a ponderous head. 
With large antlers attached, and widely spread ; 
His fiesh, furnished us, with excellent food. 
And we always pronounced it, very good. 

We at first placed our camp, on the shore of the lake, 
But the loons made so much noise, it kept us awake ; 
Then we moved to the bank, of a near by stream. 
And here were annoyed, by a lynx's savage scream. 

We then heard the hooting, of a big-horned owl, 
And at a distance, the wolf's doleful howl ; 
We then heard a big wild-cat's yawl, 
Followed shortly, by a bull-moose call. 

One night two wild-cats were fighting, up in a tree, 
Which seemed to be, directly over me; 
One of them gave a frantic yell. 
When from the limb of the tree he fell. 



When he struck the cover of the tent. 
The cloth gave way, and down he went; 
Squalling and yawUng, he made a great noise. 
As he came down on top of the boys. 

He was scratching and yawUng and jumping about, 
Aa there was no way for him to get out ; 
I now reached out of my bed and got my gun. 
And shot the wild cat, dead as a stone. 

We men, while we were hunting up there, 

KiUed five moose, and one big bear ; 

Alao one wolf, and one otter, we got. 

And a great quantity, of smaU game we shot. 

I wish to relate, with considerable brevity, 
That I think these trips, have added to my longevity; 
Of course, very much younger, I would like to be, 
Aa at the present time, I am eighty-three. 

A little fiction but mostly true. 




iS..^ 



a)X«=^ 



MT. LOWE CABLE LIXE THE ILLS 
BUFFALOXL4XS 



Dr. S. S. Green IViites of Experiences 
in Sotbthem CaL 



Dr. S. S. Green. 81 Crescent Avenue, vho ie riBlting in 
Southern California, sends the Erening News a letter telling 
of the sensations of himself and friends in making an assent 
of Mount Lowe which has an altitude of 5000 feet. The Letter 
Reads. Editor, Evening News. After our part:^ of three 
Buffalonians arrived here in Los Angelis. we visited the Catalina 
Islands, Long Beach, Passadena. and several other places of 
Southern California. We decided to ascend Mount Lowe which 
has an altitude of 5000 feet — quite a high mountain for a Lowe 
one. When we arrived at the foot of the mountain and saw the 
Cas, which carries from 50 to 75 persons, drawn by a cable or 
endless chain, and looked up that almost perpendicular ascenx. 
almost as far as the eve could extend, my heart r«hV within me, 
and if it had not been for the ridicule showered upon me by my 
companion I woitld have changed my mind and returned to my 
hotel. It is said that one who changes his mind often, will never 
commit suicide, but, thought occured to me. would it not be betcer 
to commit suicide than to be killed by this implement of destmc- 
tion ? But when the order was given, all aboard I we aH climbed 
on board. Some plae^; during tiie ascent, the side of the car 
sieemed to project over the edge of deep canyans, where one 
could look down thousands of feet, into the almost unfathamahle 
deptiis of destruction. At one place an old lady said to tlie 
Conductor: If we should go off here, where would I go to? 
His reply was. "TThat would d^iend altogether upon your past 
fife." I T^i^TiV my courage would have been much becrer, had it 
not been for an experience wiiich I once had in Hong £.ong, 
China. WhDe there, we ascended a high mocntain on a cable 
car. of similar construction to this. While descending the stee?) 
side of the mountain the brake gave way. and a large piece went 
tumbling down the mountain side. Instantly there was a great 
increase of momentum. The motorman's face became white as 
snow. By af'plying a safety brake he succeeded in cpntroTiing 
the speed of the car and "we reached the bottom of the mountain 
in safety. 

On reaching tiie summit of Mount Lowe, we found that our 
i^petrca^ and the altrmde had both incTeasec at the same ratio. 
and we partook of a gvx»d dinner at the Mountain Hotel, ai a much 



lower price than we had anticipated. We were not now thinking 
so much about expenses as we were the danger of returning 
down that terrible descent of 5000 feet. If that cable should 
break, or the brake give away, what would be the result? The 
result would be that a car load of human beings would be con- 
verted into a heterogeneous, or conglomerate mass of human 
mincemeat. But nothing did happen and we returned safely. 
I am glad I went, but will never go again, once is enough for me. 

My narrow escape from being killed, by a bullet from my own 
rifle, when shooting at a deer. 

FICTION 

One fall when a party of twelve of us were hunting deer 
in the northen woods of Canada, I narrowly escaped being killed 
by a bullet from my own rifle when shooting at a large buck. 
We had been in camp about ten days and had twenty-three deer 
hanging up in front of our camp. The deer were driven into 
the small lakes by beagle hounds, and then dispatched by hunters 
who were stationed on the shore with canoes, who would paddle 
out and shoot them. This not being a very sportsmanlike method, 
I will confess. At this time the weather suddenly changed and 
it became very cold, so much so, that the large trees in the woods 
would crack like rifles from the frost. The lakes now all became 
frozen over which prevented our shooting any more deer in the 
water. We now decided to try hunting on the runways. In the 
evening we all selected the runway which we would guard the 
next day. I chose what was known as the Beach Ridge runway, 
which passed over a long ridge of land running east and west, 
about one mile from camp. The next morning the guides all 
started with the dogs to start deer, and we hunters all went to 
our different locations, agreed upon the night before. When I 
arrived at the runway I selected a location in front of a large 
birch tree, located near the runway. There was quite a high 
hill not far distant, in the direction from which I expected the 
deer to come, as one of the guides had gone that way to start deer. 
The runway passed over this hill. For some distance the ground 
was level, between the foot of the hill and where I decided to 
stand. I planed that when the deer reached a point opposite a 
small maple tree, standing beside the runway about ten rods 
from my standing place, that I would aim at the white spot in 
the deer's breast in a line if the bullet passed through the deer's 
body it would emerge at a point near the deer's tail. At last I 
heard what is "heavenly music to a hunter's ear," the baying of 



the hounds, away to the east and apparently coming my way. 
The air was cold and crisp and the barking of the dogs became 
clearer and more and more distinct as they were rapidly ap- 
proaching me. It was very cold and the hounds were forcing the 
deer to his greatest speed. I now cocked my rifle and stood in a 
position to fire when the time should come. In the open woods 
on the top of the hill I now beheld a large spik-horned buck ap- 
proaching rapidly with the dogs in hot persuit. He soon reached 
the level ground, and when opposite the small maple tree, I aimed 
at the white spot in his breast and fired the aim was correct and 
the builet entered the deer's body on a line which if it passed 
through tho deer's body would em.erge near the deer's tail. At 
this instant the deer turned around so quickly as nothing but a 
deer can turn. He did not commence to turn until the bullet 
had entered his breast but before it reached his tail, his tail 
was towards m.e and the bullet whizzed past my ear and entered 
the body of the birch tree standing back of me. I have written 
this that other deer hunters may be cautious under like cir- 
cumstances. 

A' MYSTERIOUS CATCH 

A Salmon Trout caught on a trolling line weighing twenty- 
three pounds without being hooked. A few years ago while a 
party of us were fishing in Hollow Lake in Northern Canada, I 
had a most singular experience in capturing a large land locked 
Salmon Trout. I found that I had a large fish on my trolling 
line, by the way he pulled. I handled him with much care, and 
at last landed him, by using a gaff. After getting him into the 
boat I found that he had not been hooked in any way, but a 
small eel-pout, some five or six inches in length had the hook in 
his mouth and the line was through the Salmon's gill. The fact 
being that the eel-pout was first caught on the hook, and then 
the big Salmon came along and tried to swallow the eel-pout, 
head first, as is always the case, but instead of going down the 
salmon's throat, he saw a window, the opening through the sal- 
mon's gill, and went through it and was not injured in the least. 

My brother was going home to Buffalo that day and took 
the big fish along, and had him on exhibition in a store window 
on Main Street for one day. 

This is not fiction, but a true fish story, but it might not 
happen again in a thousand years. 



A FISH FICTION 

One fall when a party of us were hunting deer in the wilds 
of Northern Canada, I was stationed on the shore of a small lake 
not far from our camp, to watch for deer, being driven into the 
water by the hounds. One day I saw some large salmon trout 
swimming in the lake. I now became very anxious to catch some 
of them, as it would be a great addition to our menu, which con- 
sisted mostly of bacon and venison. That evening I inquired of 
the guides, if any of them had any fishing tackle? After receiv- 
ing a negative answer from all of them, I examined my surgical 
kit and there I found a trolling line, but- now I was in just as bad 
a dilemma as I had no troll or hook of any kind. 

"Necessity being the mother of invention," I now planned 
how I could manufacture a hook, but not having any material I 
was compelled to give it up. I now decided to try and make an 
artificial minnow. With a pair of surgeon's scissors, I cut one 
out of a soft sponge. I succeded far beyond by expectations. 
He had a nice shaped body and a fine head and tail and dorsal 
fin. I now threaded the end of the line into the eye of a large 
surgeon's needle, and thrust the needle through the sponge min- 
now and tied a knot back of his tail, and one at his nose to pre- 
vent the minnow slipping on the line. Now my mysterious fishing 
tackle was complete and ready for use. Just before dark I went 
to the lake to place my sponge minnow into the water and await 
developments. A large pine stump stood near the edge of the 
water with a sliver extending from the top of it which I fastened 
the end of the line to, and then with my canoe I paddled out into 
the lake the length of the line. I now took from my pocket a 
small bottle of croton oil, which I used to saturate the sponge 
minnow with, and then dropped it into the water. I then went 
to camp and waited for further results. 

The next morning I arose very early and went to the lake 
to see if my experiment was a success or a failure. Imagine 
my surprise when I came near the pine stump to see a large 
Salmon trout forced clear to the end of the line, with his mouth 
wide open. The fact being that he had swallowed the sponge 
minnow and after a short time, to use a military expression, he 
was induced to move up the line, when another took the bait and 
the operation was duplicated by all the others, until the whole 
line was filled from end to end. I took four of those last caught 
to camp and had them fried for breakfast, which we all enjoyed 
greatly. After this whenever we wanted trout all we had to do 
was to take some off the line, when others would immediately take 
their places. 

I have always kept this method a profound secret for fear 
that the fish in the Country would all be exterminated. 

This is purely unadulterated fiction. 



SNAKES IN FLORIDA 

Diamondback rattlesnakes seem to be about as numerous as 
ever here in Florida, although the imaginary variety have greatly 
diminished since the greater portion of Florida has gone dry. 
Since I came to the state I have known of several large rattle- 
snakes being killed, and yesterday I had the satisfaction of 
killing a very large water moccasin, which is also venomous. 
Many instances have been related to me where several persons, 
as well as a number of animals, have been killed by the bite of 
these venomous reptiles. 

A Methodist bishop living near Tampa had two boys who 
were playing one day near a jungle, when one of them was bitten 
by a rattlesnake and died within two hours. A young man from 
Ohio was out hunting quail with his uncle who owned a farm a 
short distance north of Tampa, when he was bitten on his leg 
by a large diamondback rattler and notwithstanding that he 
removed a piece of the flesh with his pocket knife, he died in less 
than three hours. A gentleman and his ten-year-old boy were out 
in the woods when the boy was bitten on his leg by a large rattle- 
snake. The boy insisted on killing the reptile, which they did, 
but the boy died in less than three hours. 

Numerous other instances might be mentioned, by the pres- 
ent number will suffice to show how deadly the bite of these 
reptiles is. I have never yet heard of a person who recovered 
from the effects of the venom injected by a diamond backed 
rattlesnake. Domestic animals are often killed by these ven- 
omous reptiles. A gentleman at St. Petersburg told me that he 
and thre other persons were riding past a field where their 
attention was attracted to a beautiful spotted cow. When they 
returned a few hours later the cow lay dead in the lot, having 
been bitten by a snake. 

A barber here is Sanford, whose father is a farmer, told me 
that one day they were driving some cattle through the woods, 
when a young cow suddenly jumped and bellowed. It proved 
that she had been bitten by a large diamondback, which they 
killed. The cow died soon after. 

It is said that the bite of a poisonous snake will not cause 
the death of a hog for the reason that the circulation of the blood 
is very slight in the fatty flesh of swine. The razorback hogs 
which were introduced into Florida by the Spaniards in the 
remote past, still are very numerous, and many of them run wild 
in the woods, where they subsist on nuts, roots and rattlesnakes. 

No Iflction about this. 



THE DOCTOR'S CATCH 



At First He Thought He Had A Flyin^Fish, Then He Thought 
It Was A Bear, But He Found Out Differently. 



During a recent fishing trip made in Northern Muskoka, by 
a party of Buffalonians, a curious event occured, which I wish 
to relate. 

One day, while fishing in the rapids of Tea Lake Falls a 
number of very large trout had been caught, when one of our 
party, who is an expert in casting the fly, permitted the tempting 
bait to float down stream and pass out of sight behind a project- 
ing ledge of rocks. He had a bite and was slowly reeling in his 
line. The tension was so great, that, to prevent breaking his 
tackle, he allowed the line to run out so rapidly, that the reel 
sang a sweet melody. The coil of line became exhausted, and 
our indefatigible fisherman, with his high-topped rubber boots, 
commenced wading rapidly down the stream, and disappeared. 
We soon heard him calling us to come to his assitance. 

We found him standing on shore, with his bamboo fishing 
rod bent nearly double, pointing toward the wilderness. On our 
approach, he said : 

"Say, boys, I have caught a flying fish," and then excitedly 
remarked that it either had wings or legs, as it had left the water 
and taken to the woods. He then laid down his pole and followed 
up the line until he reached a large pine tree, when he exclaimed : 

"Boys, its a bear." 

He then proposed that each of us should procure a club and 
stand under the tree, ready to dispatch the supposed bear, while 
he would climb the tree, catch bruin by the tail and tumble him 
to the ground. 

By this time all of us had taken a look at the supposed cub, 
causing significant glances and smiles to pass from one to the 
other. We cheerfully agreed to the proposition and strictly obeyed 
orders. Our hero proved to be a good climber and soon reached 
the limb upon which the animal sat. With herculean strength 
he caught the animal's tail with his right hand, and threw him 
to the ground. Imagine our surprise when a large porcupine, 
weighing nearly forty younds, came falling to the earth, accom- 
panied by shrieks and a great commotion up in the tree. On 
looking up we beheld our companion holding fast to a limb with 
his left hand, the palm of the right being white with the quills of 
the porcupine, thrust deply into the flesh, while the atmosphere 
in his immediate vicinity was fairly blue with expletives, which 



would not be very becoming to a deacon of the church. But we 
all forgave him, as he had never been known to use such language 
before. 

At this juncture another member of the party arrived, who 
is a noted esculapius, and after loking steadfastly for some 
moments at our companion's hand, and the animal, exclaimed, 
"D — n the porcupine." After removing the quills and dressing 
the hand, the surgeon directed that an antiseptic mixture, com- 
posed of spiritus frumcnti and water be freely used by all of us, 
to prevent blood poisoning. We then returned to camp and had 
our hero and his "bear's" picture taken. The surgeon then 
ordered fumigation of the camp and we all proceeded to fumi- 
gate, by lighting our fumigators and discussed the exciting 
events of the day. We then retired to our couches and dreamed 
of bears, porcupines, and flying fish. 

PHILETUS AND THE BEAR 

Philetus is a typical Vermonter, such as one often meets in 
the rural districts of the old Green Mountain State. He is tall, 
lean and lank, standing six feet two in his slippers. He is awk- 
ward and uncouth in manner, with a decided down-east accent. 

Philetus lives with his family in a small house at the upper 
extremity of a deep ravine. This ravine is bordered on either 
side by high hills, thickly covered with timber. Through this 
depression runs a small river with a road crosing it many times. 
One evening a large, black cow, owned by Philetus, failed to 
return home, as was her custom. Her owner started bright and 
early the next morning in search of her. While hunting for her 
in the woods on the slope of the hill, he saw the cow, as he sup- 
posed, lying with her head behind a large boulder. He steathily 
approached within a few feet of her, and then gave her a cruel 
blow across the back with a heavy hickory stick, at the same time 
shouting in stentorian tones, "Now go home, gosh darn you !" 

The blow was followed by a loud growl, and the hasty retreat 
of a large black bear. Bruin ran swiftly one way while Philetus 
ran equally as fast in the opposite direction. After reaching 
home, he informed his neighbors, and mounted men scattered the 
news over the surrounding country. Soon the woods was sur- 
rounded by excited men carrying various kinds of weapons. 
Most of them had shotguns, loaded with bird shot ; others carried 
axes, hatchets and pitchforks, while a few had rifles. Our hero 
having recovered from his fright, and hearing that the bear had 
crossed the gully, took his shotgun and started down toward the 



lower end of the ravine. Hearing guns fired from a hill at the 
left, he proceeded in that direction. 

On reaching a point where a narrow pass ran between two 
ledges of rocks, he was gi'eatly surprised by meeting the wound- 
ed bear. Several excited hunters were in hot persuit. Philetus 
instead of firing at the bear, struck him across the head with his 
gun, demolishing the stock. This somewhat impeded the bear's 
progress. Philetus being now greatly excited, jumped upon the 
bear's back, clasping both arms around the bruin's neck, and his 
legs around his body. Away they went, Philetus constantly 
shouting to the hunters, "Shoot, shoot! why don't you shoot?" 

When they reached the river bank, the bear plunged boldly 
into the foaming waters with his unwelcome burden still on his 
back. When they sank beneath the surface of the water, Philetus 
let go his hold on the bear, but when they rose to the surface, he 
caught the animal by the tail with both hands, and in this manner 
was towed to fhe shore. On reaching land, Philetus braced both 
feet against the steep bank and tightened his grip on bruin's 
tail, and shouted frantically to the surprised hunters, "Shoot, 
shoot, confound you, boys, why don't you shoot?" The bear 
pulled one way, Philetus the other, until the "skin cleared from 
the bone," leaving the tail denuded and bai'e. This caused Phile- 
tus to turn a summersault backward into the turbulent stream. 
The now enraged animal turned upon his torm.enter. When 
Philetus rose to the surface, he saw with teror that the bear had 
plunged into the river and was swimming towards him. Our 
hero now saw that he must swim for his life, and struck boldly 
out for the opposite shore. On reaching land he scaled the steep 
bank at a single bound, but when bruin tried to perform the same 
feat, the bank gave way, and he was thrown back into the river. 
This gave Philetus a good start, and knowing that he would soon 
be overtaken by the bear, he climbed a large hemlock tree, hoping 
that the bear would not see him. Philetus, however, was doomed 
to disappointment. The bear came clambering up the tree in hot 
persuit. Knowing that the bear would follow him to the top of 
the tree if he continued to climb upward, he walked out on a 
large limb, hoping that his pursuer would proceed up the tree. 
Again he was disappointed, as the bear walked boldly but 
cautiously out on the same limb. Their combined weight caused 
the limb to bend to that extent, that by grasping it with both 
hands, Philetus succeeded in gaining another limb, some six feet 
below. He then performed a flank movement by walking quickly 
back to the trunk of the tree and descending as fast as possible. 
He hoped by this means to escape, but his plans were again 
frustrated, as the bear slid radiply down the tree, and overtook 
his enemy before reaching the ground. Philetus again caught 



the bear by his denuded tail with one hand, and with the other, 
commenced thrusting his large pocket knife into bruin's pos- 
terior extremity. At this the bear gave a tremendous growl, and 
again climbed the tree, dragging his enemy with him. Philetus 
who now was covered with blood from the bear's wounds, had 
the appearance of a red demon from the infernal regions. He 
constantly shouted, "shoot, shoot, confound you boys, why don't 
you shoot." One of the hunters now came upon the scene and 
with a well directed shot, put a bullet through the bear's heart, 
causing both man and beast to fall to the ground. The bear was 
found to be dead, and Philetus badly bruised and stunned. How- 
ever, he was not so badly injured but what he kept his favorite 
hold upon the bear's tail, and still cried out, "shoot, shoot, goll 
darn you boys, why don't you shoot?" 

The hunters soon assembled and all united in proclaiming 
Philetus the hero of the day. That evening a supper was given 
in his honor at the village hotel. It was unanimously decided by 
the hunters that the bears tail (still in Philetus possesison), 
should not go with the hide, but that the hide should go with 
the tail. Therefore Philetus had the bear skin, which he sold the 
following day for forty dollars. 

I omitted to state that the old black cow came back the 
next day. 

S..ff. GREEN. 







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